


Agents of Sherlock

by shnuffeluv



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, I Don't Even Know, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Mycroft IS the British Government, Phil Coulson Has the Patience of a Saint, Sherlock Has Superpowers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 04:08:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7602820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shnuffeluv/pseuds/shnuffeluv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock wants to research a crystal that has rumors of turning people to stone. But what will happen if the rumors are true? And to make matters worse, Sherlock somehow survives the ordeal?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It all started out when Sherlock found that weird crystal in a pawn shop. Rumor had it that it would turn anyone who touched it into stone, and they would die. Sherlock, being who he was and brimming with skepticism and curiousity, bought it on the spot, kept in the old linen handkerchief it had been found in when an old woman had died in her home.

Sherlock rushed back to Baker Street, crystal in hand, eager to experiment on it. John was busy playing house with Mary, so this should have kept him occupied for a couple of days.

However, upon laying the crystal on the table, Sherlock grew uneasy. It was glowing a faint blue, and certainly looked dangerous. He decided to figure out what exactly it was made of before he touched it. Sherlock spun toward the living room, elbow unwittingly striking the table, and knocking the crystal off. Before Sherlock could think, he reached out and caught it. Rock started to form across his arm and Sherlock’s eyes widened in horror. He tried to drop it but his fingers were already encased as well as half of his arm. It looked like he was going to wind up another horror story.

_Oh, how mundane._

When Sherlock came around, the rock was crumbling around him. He shook it off and immediately threw the crystal into his biohazardous waste bin. He shook his head, looking around for any clue about how long he was in that…cocoon. Nothing made itself immediately apparent. Something was different about him, though. Something…just felt _right_. He looked back at the rock and discovered that even from across the kitchen, he could see every little bump on the crumbling rock. His eyes were sharper than ever. He rushed over to the window, astounded by the fact that he could see the thread count on passerby’s sweaters, the coin someone had dropped onto the street, and he could read the license plates on cars down the block as if they were right in front of him.

He found his hearing had greatly improved as well as soon as he opened the window. It was as if everyone speaking were right next to him, screaming into his ear. He immediately slammed the window shut and leaned his head against the glass. Could it be that this crystal had done something to him?

There was someone breathing at the top of the steps. It wasn’t the panting that usually alerted Sherlock to someone he had neglected to notice on rare occasions, but the tight, fast breathing of someone who was panicking. Sherlock half-turned to see Mycroft in the doorway, his eyes flicking in between the rock in the kitchen and Sherlock. “Sherlock?” Mycroft’s voice was tight, too tight. And held questions Sherlock didn’t know how to answer. “What happened?”

Sherlock felt his own alarm bells ringing, but swallowed the feeling, brushing it off as residual sensory overload from opening the window. “There was this…crystal at a pawn shop, rumored to turn people to stone, so I bought it to see what was making that happen. And…I may have almost dropped it and caught it mid-air without gloves. Then that rock over there,” Sherlock nodded to the kitchen. “Covered me, and when it broke apart my eyesight got much better, like I’m almost looking through a microscope all the time, and the same thing happened with my hearing. It’s an interesting phenomena that I’ll look forward to studying further…” Sherlock trailed off when he noticed Mycroft getting paler and paler. “You know what happened.”

Mycroft nodded. “Where did you put the Terr…the crystal?”

“Biohazard bin. Why?”

Mycroft snatched the crystal and pocketed it. “We need to get you out of here. Now.”

“What’s going on? Mycroft?” Sherlock asked as he was forcibly dragged out the front door.

“This is the Ice Man, calling for Director Coulson,” Mycroft spoke into his phone. “The Detective came into contact. I repeat, the Detective came into contact. Requesting an immediate pick-up.”

Sherlock covered his ears as soon as they were outside. “Mycroft, it’s too _loud_!”

“Yeah, I figured it would be,” Mycroft muttered, but Sherlock heard it clear as day. “We’re gonna head to my office, and once we’re there I’ll bring in some people who can explain. Hopefully. I just know S.H.I.E.L.D. can do it better than I can.”

“S.H.I.E.L.D. was disbanded,” Sherlock said as they got into Mycroft’s car.

Mycroft sent him a look that said _Keep up, for once, can you?_  “It’s not. And it’s their responsibility to make sure that you can control your powers.”

“Powers?!” Sherlock sputtered. “Mycroft, what’s going on?!”

“I was hoping this wouldn’t happen,” Mycroft sighed. “But Sherlock, you are what is referred to in certain circles as an Inhuman.”


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock's mouth was suddenly dry.  _Inhuman_...what did that mean. "What's an Inhuman?"

"Who," Mycroft corrected. "Inhumans are a subset of...genetically altered humans. I don't exactly know the science behind it, but if you come into contact with a certain chemical that is inside the Terrigen crystals, you get superhuman powers. S.H.I.E.L.D. is one of many organizations, but the only one I know that actively helps Inhumans control their powers and doesn't try to 'cure' them," Mycroft growled at the word "cure".

"So, wait...this is genetic, then? You have this gene too?" Sherlock asked.

Mycroft nodded and flicked some snow out of thin air onto Sherlock's shoulder. "I'm not the only one with powers over ice; it's pretty mundane as far as powers go, but it helps if I'm in need of a traffic jam and there's puddles of rain on the roads."

Sherlock laughed. His head was reeling and none of this made sense, but Mycroft freezing over roads just to cause chaos reminded him that his brother was once a teenager who would have loved nothing more than to watch the world burn occasionally. "Who's Director Coulson, then? The head of S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"Essentially, yes," Mycroft said. "He's also a liaison to many countries when it comes to dealing with Inhumans and aliens and the like."

"So he's you, but with aliens," Sherlock summarized with a grin.

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "You over estimate my power, once again. Really, I don't do half of what you think I do in my position."

"So you  _do_ engage in half of what I speculate, good to know!" Sherlock said smugly. "Also, that jacket is getting threadbare around the seams. You might want to ditch it at the earliest opportunity. I told you tugging at it would eventually undo it."

"How...?" Mycroft shook his head. "Right. Deductions and super sight. That's going to be a right pain in the--"

"Watch your language," Sherlock teased. "I might just tell Mummy."

Mycroft rolled his eyes and traced patterns onto the window, using ice. Sherlock watched the individual crystals form with fascination. "How long have you been able to do that?"

"Remember when I went on that trip to the Carribean for a couple months?" Mycroft asked.

"Yes."

"About since a week before that. It wasn't to the Carribean, it was to America, where I was given lessons to control my powers."

Sherlock frowned. "Wait...am I going to have to do that too? I told John if I didn't have a case by next week we'd go out and find one!"

Mycroft shook his head. "Sherlock, do you really think you can just step outside your house with your powers and magically not get sensory overload? You couldn't bear normal senses as a child! Your trip will most likely be shorter than mine, I estimate no more than a month. And you have no powers that are conventionally good for combat, so you won't have to fight not being on a task force like I did. They'll train you, make sure to keep tabs on you maybe once or twice a month, and then leave you alone."

Sherlock growled. "I don't want to do anything like that! I refuse to go back to America. If they have to train me at all, it will be here, in London!"

"I can arrange that," a smooth voice from the front seat said. The car pulled to the curb and the driver turned around. "Director Coulson. I'll be in charge of you for the next month, at least. You have some very interesting powers, Sherlock Holmes. Most people usually get powers that take a bit longer to really understand and perfect. You're lucky, you have extremely good control of your senses already, isn't that right?"

Sherlock crossed his arms. "I don't, I merely observe while the rest of the population prattles on and doesn't bother to take note of anything they see."

Coulson's smile didn't waver, though he did look over to Mycroft. "Every bit as ornery as you claimed he was. I'm glad that I heard about a possible terrigenesis nearby and decided to go undercover as your driver."

"If you think this is ornery you're in for a trip," Mycroft scoffed. "You're not going to contain him, are you? His powers are hardly deadly, and I can restrain him if necessary."

"Hopefully that won't be the case," Coulson said. "I'll call my team, and we'll see if we can get you set up, Sherlock."

Sherlock rolled his eyes.  __" _Great_."


End file.
